


Crimson Scarlet Ruby Red

by BethR5



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Almost death, Blood, Death, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:59:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethR5/pseuds/BethR5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just a walk and it was his stupid idea</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson Scarlet Ruby Red

It was sticky, it was viscous and, it was abnormally warm. Slowly it dripped through his fingers and onto the cold, hard concrete echoing loudly and almost disrespectfully. His throat felt constricted and dry, the bleak and bitter autumn air pinched at him...he looked down tentatively, just to check, to see if this was really happening. And yes, it was. Phil Lester had his best friend’s blood on his hands. It had all happened too fast, almost too fast to process... Almost. The car came past too fast, they'd just about jumped out of the way, he had caught his foot on a loose paving stone, lost his balance and fallen. He could've been fine with a few scuffs, but as fate would have it he had fallen towards the road and onto a broken beer bottle. A large shard of thick, green glass was protruding from the right side of his stomach. 

The ambulance was coming, but there was just so much blood. Somehow he had remembered to take off his jacket soft fabric a stark contrast against the blood. More solid, more sure. He was using it to keep pressure on the wound without taking out the glass. They'd stayed up late night binge watching enough 24 hours in A&E to know. The boy looked down and his eyes looked blank, expressionless and almost lifeless, worryingly so. They'd said 7 minutes at most, but this was London on a Friday night and he knew what that meant. It had been 5 agonisingly long minutes yet he honestly didn't know if he, if Dan, would hang on that long. 

 

He didn't hear the sirens, barely noticed the garish, bright lights. He knew someone had pulled him away and was directing him from the scene, just barely he could hear their voice. It was gravelly, grating and did not soothe as he guessed it was supposed to. 

Somehow he was in a hospital, in a waiting room. The clock was ticking dully in the corner; a phone was ringing somewhere and moving some more haste than others. An old woman with wispy, white hair and tired eyes sat in the hard, platinum seat next to him. Her eyes were a deep brown, a colour he knew well...similar to his who's were flaked with gold when he stands in the light and yet turn a rusty deep brown like his morning coffee when he was concentrating or angry, though rare. The woman seemed calm, relaxed even and he envied her. Mentally he hadn't stopped pacing, thinking of what they'd created together as cliché as it sounds; they were "Dan and Phil" for god’s sake. 

A shadow came into his line of sight; it was the nurse that had been with him when they arrived. He leaned down to meet the boy’s eyes. The man told him that he had come out of theatre and, though they'd almost lost him once, he'd fought through. He told him that although all his major arteries and organs had been missed. He said a lot of blood had been lost so had been put in a medically induced coma to recover, and allow his body to process the transfused blood. After that the boy stopped paying attention it was just medical jargon anyway. It didn't feel quite real, it was like one of those stupid fanfictions he had read. His throat felt dry again and he could feel tears burning in the back of his eyes, threatening to spill. Those he had been holding since 9:47 this evening. He wasn't sure if it was relief, happiness, lingering grief or just for release for crying sake. The nurse, Stephen, he thinks, caught his attention again. He told the boy to go home and rest or shower or just get out of there. How it'd be better for him, not that it seemed plausible to the boy in question. The nurse told him they would call should he wake, though unlikely between now and morning visitation, and then he left just like that. The boy knew he was right, after all he was a health professional even if he didn't, at least didn't want to believe him. 

He stood reluctantly, limbs feeling numb yet like jelly all at once, mind reeling with recollection of the night’s events. Languidly he placed one heavy foot in front of the other. Greeted by the harsh cold he went to pull his jacket around himself...but it wasn't there of course. Looking down at his watch he noted it was 4:32am, too late for a taxi with the money he had on him, plus he'd have to call a firm at this time he'd be lucky if they picked up. He settled on walking a little disgruntled. 

It was a long and apparently lonely walk back the wind whipping his fringe into his eyes only further making them water. And he still had blood on his hands. 

Tentatively the boy lifted his key to the lock and pushed open the door, the click of the bolt resonating off of the empty walls. He wouldn't sleep, he couldn't sleep, he thought. He made himself a coffee, getting out two cups at for sir and having to pause for a second. He brushed it off, made the coffee and walked in to the lounge, soft carpet on his bare feet and sporadic clunking of the radiator pipes. The TV was paused on the new episode of Haikyuu! They’d been watching before going for a quick stroll. That's all it had been, and it was his stupid idea. The boy laid back into his sofa crease and as fatigue started to creep up on him, he changed the channel to some late night family drama crap. He didn't want to sleep though, he didn't need to but an 8am alarm was put on anyway and his phone turned up to full volume. 

Then he heard it, he jolted awake, confused as to why he was in said state anyway...reaching around he grabbed his phone which was emitting a shrill bleeping, not appreciated in his sleep dazed state. He answered, knowing who it was. Quickly he got up walked down the hall grabbed his bag, keys and the first shirt that was in the dryer. He ran his hand through his somewhat greasy hair and slid his phone into his pocket and left again. 

When he arrived he headed to the receptionist who directed him to the ICU, causing that damned lump in his throat to come back again and a sinking in his chest. His legs felt heavy again. There was a doctor outside one of the rooms who must've recognised him as he beckoned the boy over. He began explaining his current state and that the boy should be prepared as it would look worse than it was how it always does. The door was opened for him and he edged in...The sight he was met with was irrevocably worse than he had imagined. There were tubes, so many tubes and wires of various colours and a heart monitor, it looked like a scene from a movie. A shaky hand reached behind him and gently closed the door. Even after this the boy looked like an angel tangled under the bedclothes and medical equipment. God he envied that boy sometimes with his perfect hair, his never did that. A soft disjointed laugh unexpectedly escaped through his chapped lips. This made his eyes flit open gradually as if caked in glue. Opening his mouth he said, voice cracking. 

"Phil is that my shirt!? Your meant to be the one who wears the colour, it's basically in our contracts. It's not my funeral, you Spork!" 

He laughed, it was laboured and barely audible, more like a cough, but Phil started to feel lighter again. His relief plain to see with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. 

"Awe really I had the black parade queued up and everything" Phil replied back

"I'd have come out of my grave just to personally slap you for being a meme you idiot" Dan sounded a bit more like himself now

He was okay, Dan was okay and Phil hadn't lost his best friend. This was more like a cliché fanfic he had read, with a much nicer outcome. 

"So how come you stole my shirt then!" Dan tried to feign anger with what little strength he had

Phil walked over, pulled up a chair and began to reply "shut it hobbit hair, I can't take you seriously looking like that" 

"Oh my god no, I need straighteners now...wait, did you watch the rest of Haikyuu without me because I swear I'll kill you Philip Michael Lester" clearly a paramount issue to Dan 

The friends continued talking, Phil having to swear an oath he didn't watch any of their programmes without him. They were back to normal, well, what passes for normal with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I tried, i mean i used far too many commas and ellipsis but it got me out of my block. Its only my second D&P so please be nice but constructive criticism is welcome


End file.
